More to New Orleans than beads, Bourbon

FILE - In this Aug, 31, 2005 file photo, a man pushes his bicycle through flood waters near the Superdome in New Orleans after Hurricane Katrina left much of the city under water. (AP Photo/Eric Gay, File)
— AP

FILE - In this Aug, 31, 2005 file photo, a man pushes his bicycle through flood waters near the Superdome in New Orleans after Hurricane Katrina left much of the city under water. (AP Photo/Eric Gay, File)
/ AP

Dixieland Jazz blares from one club, and rap music booms from another. Necklaces with beads gold and green, red and yellow, silver and purple jump from balconies, coiling and uncoiling while falling to the people below.

They scream. They laugh.

They sip colorful drinks from tall, thin glasses.

“Everyone sees the French Quarter as New Orleans,” said Elaine Cordier, 58, a New Orleans resident and native. “That’s not New Orleans.”

The city, for the first time since Hurricane Katrina in 2005, is hosting a Super Bowl, and after more than $1 billion in recent infrastructure improvements, it believes it’s ready. The week ahead is a chance to showcase the progress made and the culture and spirit that endure — things that are real and worth the raised glass.

It’s not all Bourbon Street and beads here, though. There are people in New Orleans who barely know the Super Bowl exists, and don’t really care even if they do.

Katrina left her scars. In some parts more than others, they remain visible, the issues that caused them still unresolved.

Leave the French Quarter to find these places. Hop on Interstate-10 due east, and after a quick drive of about 10 minutes, exit on Read Boulevard.

Welcome to, as Cordier considers it, the real New Orleans. A place unmolested by the city’s Super Bowl touchup.

On Saturday, a couple dozen men in hard hats clawed and dug into the dirt behind what was once Pendleton Memorial Methodist Hospital. Today, it’s a brown building shortened by two letters — the signage reads “ ethodist ospital” — and “seven-plus years of patient care.”

It’s shut down now. Since Katrina, there have been no working hospitals east of the Industrial Canal, a side of town known as New Orleans East.

Need an ambulance ride to the emergency room? That commute across I-10 doesn’t seem so quick anymore, and it becomes complicated during inclement weather, which compromises the emergency response vehicles’ drive across the waterway.

“That was a complicated transaction to begin with,” said Cedric Grant, New Orleans’ deputy mayor who oversees facilities, infrastructure and community development. “It wasn’t a public hospital when it was damaged. It was a private hospital where the private owner decided to abandon site, take the insurance proceeds and move on. …

“Let’s be honest. There were opportunities to get after this work post-Katrina that were missed.”

It’s not just hospitals. While the French Quarter thrives, damaged or abandoned buildings dot the landscape away from downtown, a picture of despair.

The city is well aware. Along with other issues, Grant said the most recent city administration, which came into office in 2010, has plans for rejuvenation. He points to a $130 million project to build a new hospital on the east side as proof. That broke ground Jan. 11.

Still, while the tourist areas have received fast and obvious upgrades, change in other areas is slow.

In 2012, there were 193 reported murders in New Orleans, or an average of about 3.7 people a week.

“We do have a high murder rate,” said James Carville, co-chairperson of the New Orleans Super Bowl Committee.

A police officer who works in New Orleans’ Seventh District, the headquarters of which are located on the east side just a few blocks from the hospital’s construction, agreed to speak Saturday under the condition of anonymity, citing department policy against speaking to reporters.

The officer and a colleague both said they agree with a local perception that younger offenders are committing more serious crimes since Katrina.

Some residents tie the perceived phenomena to the recreation centers that were destroyed and never rebuilt, eliminating outlets for youth activity.

The officer believes that explanation is too simple, saying enough resources are there for those who choose to use them.

Instead, the officer says that, like the empty east-side buildings, many of the city’s people problems stem from abandonment. Many of these offenders are literally people who, when the storm hit, were left to fend for themselves.

“You leave a 17-, 18-year-old who doesn’t work, has no resources coming in monetary-wise,” the officer said. “What do you think he’s going to do? He has to eat. He has to pay lights. How do you think he’s going to get it? …

“Mom is thinking he’s grown now. He’s 18. But think about it. At 18, you’re really not grown. You’re an adult in the eyes of the law, but you’re really not grown.”

That generation has come of age away from downtown, getting by any way it can. Having a football game here — even the biggest game on the planet — is not likely to solve those people’s problems, not even a little bit.

In New Orleans, this is a time of celebration. Mardi Gras parades have begun. Music is playing. Beads are flying.

Among them, a streetcar line on Loyola Avenue extends all the way to the Superdome, where more than 20,000 hotel rooms are within walking distance. Of residents polled, the vast majority said they welcome the game being here, believing it is a positive for the city.

“My description of the city is that 40 percent is actually better than it was before the storm, and 40 percent is getting better,” Carville said.

“And 20 percent is struggling.”

And that’s the real New Orleans. For all the joy, for all the reasons for excitement, for all the reminders of how far most of this city has come, there are many other reminders of how much work remains.

There are still strings of empty homes.

There is still an abandoned Six Flags amusement park.

On Read Boulevard, within sight of the hospital construction, there is still an empty movie theater.

The Grand 12 Theatre, it was called, opened less than three years before Hurricane Katrina arrived. It’s been reduced to a graffiti artist’s playground.

A chain-linked rent-a-fence is kicked in, offering easy access to the parking lot. Its white direction arrows and blue handicap spaces are faded.

Broken glass borders the theater walls.

Inside, broken glass — and much more — cover the gray carpet.

There are old movie theater posters from 2005 — “Four Brothers,” “Robots” and “Brothers Grimm.” There are old plastic utensils, tucked in a plastic wrap covered in yellowish residue. A child’s pink shoe, half the size of a water bottle, sits in the debris, along with a red “Happy Birthday!” popcorn bag